You Are My Waifu

The apartment was unusually quiet when Mirio returned home. No splashy footsteps. No clingy "Hubbyyy~" from behind the couch. No sudden boob-tackles from a doorway. Just… silence.

That alone should've been the first warning.

He stepped inside, grocery bags in hand, and froze.

There, standing in the middle of the living room, was her.

Or rather—not Lily.

Not in the usual sense.

This Lily was tall and elegant, with shimmering violet hair cascading down her back, glimmering red eyes that practically sparkled with mischief, and a gravity-defying chest barely restrained by a black lace corset. Her thighs were wrapped in stockings, her voice purring in flawless, sultry tone.

"Welcome home… Master~" she said, brushing a hand through her hair in a slow arc. "You must be so tired after work. Shall I… relieve your tension?"

Mirio blinked once.

Then sighed. "Lily."

The anime waifu pouted—identical to the seductive lead of Heartblade Midnight, his favorite fantasy romance show. "Aww, come on! I got the voice exactly right this time! I even did the little hair flip and everything!"

He dropped the bags on the counter and crossed his arms. "Let me guess… you watched the third OVA again?"

She shapeshifted on the spot—this time into a fiery redhead in a skintight battle leotard, complete with spark effects and tiny floating sword wings. "Maybe~! But you blushed at this scene last time!"

"You caught me off guard," he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

She grinned and stepped forward, her form shifting again. Now she was a pale-skinned shrine maiden with long silver hair and a knowing smirk. Her kimono barely clung to her shoulders, and her voice dropped into a teasing whisper. "Then maybe I should tempt you again… right here, in our humble little temple~"

Mirio rolled his eyes. "That character literally tried to marry a ghost and stab her ex in the same episode."

"I can fix her."

"I am her."

He turned to open the fridge, unfazed.

Lily pouted harder, shifting again—this time rapid-fire cycling through his entire anime crush collection. Schoolgirl. Demon queen. Android secretary. Sexy ninja. Evil scientist in a lab coat two sizes too small. Each one acted out some iconic line with perfect voice mimicry, matching tone, expression, and jiggle physics.

He didn't budge.

Finally, she reverted back to her normal form—gooey blue, soft hips, thick thighs, gentle glow. Her yellow jacket reappeared over her goo-made crop top, and her tentacle-hair curled loosely behind her.

She stood in the doorway with a tiny frown. "You didn't even flinch."

Mirio turned to face her.

"I memorized everything. The lines, the outfits, the stares, the poses, the spinny little camera angles. I nailed the dramatic kiss lunge!"

"You did."

"And?"

He stepped forward.

She blinked.

"You're not them," he said.

She tilted her head. "I know, but I was pretending. Wasn't it hot?"

"It was flawless."

"Then why didn't you react?"

He reached out, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers.

"Because they're not you."

She froze.

He smiled. "You're my real wife. My weirdo slime girl who tries to spoon me in her sleep and eats candy wrappers because she thinks they're part of the experience. The one who clings to my waist when I do dishes. The one who accidentally exploded a soda can inside her chest because it was 'bubbly and fun.'"

Her core glowed brighter.

"You don't need to be anyone else," he said. "Because you're the only woman I've ever really loved."

Lily melted—literally. Her cheeks steamed. Her shoulders sloshed. Her lips trembled with a dopey grin as she floated up and flung herself into his chest like a giant, warm, wiggling pillow.

"HUBBYYYYYY~"

He staggered back as she wrapped every limb around him, her goo squishing into his neck, his cheeks, his shirt, until he was practically swimming in affection.

"You mean it? You really really really mean it?"

"I meant it the last fifty times too."

"I love you I love you I love you I love you—"

She grabbed his face with both hands and peppered it with kisses. Slimey, wet, energetic kisses all over his cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally, a long, slow smooch right on his lips. Her tentacle-hair curled around his waist and tugged him closer.

"Marry me again," she whispered.

"We already are."

"Do it again anyway!"

He laughed and hugged her tighter.

"I'll say yes every time."

She squealed and nuzzled him, giggling and sobbing all at once. "You're so dumb and hot and perfect and mine forever and I'm never transforming into anything ever again—except maybe a wedding dress made of boobs."

"Please don't."

"Too late~"

He kissed her once more.

And this time, she didn't need to be anyone else.